There's a time to fight,
there's a time too right,
there's a time to write.
Along with the tasks,
there maybe much fright.
The ending could be sun,
or days as dark as night.

Much of my life,
I've been fighting,
in some way or another.
When I was young,
I fought to be a man.
Hadn't even figured out,
what a man was.
My father,
he never did bother.
He ran from
his responsibilities,
this caused me
many hostilities.
Not a good example,
or role model ample.

Then again after I took,
a second look,
my father was an
excellent role model,
no drugs or alcohol bottle.
All his life he worked a job,
never picked up a gun to rob.
He took good care of him,
even though not them.
His times were
harder than crying,
a rope waiting for
just trying.
He was never hung,
still live out among.

Did dad learn to conform,
or raise hell up a storm?
During my days the rope,
is a mean vision in scope.
I do not have to
conform to dopes,
who stretch necks
with ropes.

It's a new day,
got to conform
another way.
Drive,
don't speed,
especially if there's
no need.
Don't drink and drive,
it's easier to survive.
Fighting with the law,
might be
the last straw.

Peace doesn't easily come,
nothing worthwhile does.
Ignoring the rules,
is a game for fools.
Peace becomes
a personal quest,
we can either pass,
or flunk the test.

G